


Realignment

by AreYouSittingComfortably



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Love, Magic, Major Character Injury, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouSittingComfortably/pseuds/AreYouSittingComfortably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a fierce battle against Cora, in which Granny is killed and Hook and Regina change sides, an injured Hook is tended to by Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be part of 'There’s No Earthly Way of Knowing', before I changed direction, and was going to precede the scene in the graveyard that eventually became part of 'Bitter End' instead. It was to come immediately after a fight between Cora and the rest of the town in which Granny is killed by Cora, and Hook proves he’s changed sides by joining Emma in the fight to save Granny. I really liked it as a scene, but it doesn’t fit with the other fics anymore so I’m going to post it as a standalone. Clearly it’s AU, and was written after In The Name of the Brother. Emma doesn’t know about Hook’s ship, and Regina is no longer fighting alongside her mother. For Captain Swan fans.

As they neared the town she instinctively turned towards the hospital. “No, lass.” Hook requested, weakly, “I have no desire to return to that place again. Take me back to my ship.”

“You’re badly injured,” Emma protested “You need medical help”.

“I’ve had worse,” he replied, grimly, “Trust me, I have what I need on the ship”.

By the time they reached the docks, Emma was tiring under his weight. His ship was nowhere to be seen.

“Down here” he gestured to an empty quay.

“Where?” she asked in surprise.

“Hidden from prying eyes. Another bit of Cora’s magic.” he spat, surprising her with the venom in his voice.

It dawned on her again that he’d been sincere about her companions being safer company than Cora, and that, had she not abandoned him on the beanstalk, his allegiance might not have switched. She had tried hard to push the look he gave her as he pleaded _‘Why do this to me now?’_ out of her mind. She concentrated on helping him down the quay.

“Here.” he stepped out over the water. She cried out as his momentum carried her forward, certain they were going to plunge into the harbour, but to her surprise her feet hit solid wood, and suddenly she was standing on the deck of his ship.

“Customarily, I would welcome a beautiful woman to my ship with a flourish, before trying to manhandle her below decks,” Hook managed with a ghost of a smile, “But forgive me if we skip the niceties, love. Tonight it appears I need your help to get me below.” He gestured to a companionway way leading down into the ship. The words came easily, but there was an edge to his voice that Emma had heard before and she knew it hurt his pride to be dependent on someone’s help. She said nothing, silently guiding him to the stairs. It was awkward getting down the narrow steps without either of them falling, but they managed, and he pointed to a door on their right, “There”.

She pushed open the door to his cabin, dark but for the light of the full moon pouring through a window, and lowered him with relief onto a chair, both of them exhausted, and looked around. The cabin was surprisingly simple, but spacious enough, with a table and chairs, a desk (or rather a chart table) by the window, bookshelves, a wardrobe, a low dresser, and a small stove, with the remnants of a fire still glowing in it. She tried not to look at the bed (or should that be bunk?) suddenly conscious of being alone with him in his cabin, a place she had not expected to find herself. Hook’s eyes followed hers, but he said nothing. She noted the tidiness of the cabin, the surprising number of books on the shelves, and… curtains? On a pirate ship? Of course, Milah.

“So, now that you’ve finally got me back to your cabin, what would you have me do?” she quipped, trying to dispel the awkwardness she was feeling.

Hook laughed, softly, which he instantly regretted as pain shot through his side. “There are many things that cross my mind, Emma Swan, under other circumstances,” he grimaced, wishing he had the energy to spar with her, if only for the delicious awkwardness it would arouse under the present circumstances, “but none as pressing as my need for that bottle of rum on my dresser.” She reached for it and passed it to him. He pulled the stopper out with his teeth, took a long swig and held out it out to her.

She raised her eyebrows, incredulously. “Really, you want to get me drunk, now?”

He glared at her, really, she was impossible! “Actually, no, love. You’re soaked to the skin, and as it seems highly unlikely you’re about to get out of those wet clothes, I thought it might warm you up.” Emma had the decency to look a little ashamed. “There are matches on the dresser and some wood by the stove if you’d care to get it going properly again and light some lamps. It might make things a bit more comfortable for both of us if you did”. She took a swig from the bottle, placing it on the table beside him. The rum burned her throat, but he was right, she did feel warmer.

She lit a couple of lamps and added some more wood to the fire before turning her attention back to the Captain. His hook lay on the table, and he’d shrugged his coat off onto the floor, along with his sword. The blood on his shirt contrasted starkly with the paleness of his face.  She took another gulp of rum.

“Feeling better, lass?” he asked, almost managing to keep the smugness out of his voice. She nodded. His expression turned serious. “Good, because now comes the hard part. I’m going to need your help with this.” He glanced down at his wound. “There’s some water in the pitcher on the dresser. And some needles and thread in the drawer there”.

“What? No!” she exclaimed, alarmed at what he was suggesting she might have to do. “You’ve got to be kidding! Let me take you to the hospital…”

He cut her off firmly, “So you can cuff me to the bed again?” he jeered, before turning serious, “No. I’m not going there again. Firstly, I don’t trust Whale, and if Cora returns, I want to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere I have the advantage.”

“I thought she came here on your ship?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t know her secrets like I do. Trust me, we’re both safer here.” He grimaced with pain again. “You can do this Emma. At least help me clean up and let’s see how badly I’m wounded.”

She shook her head, marvelling at his ability to put her in yet another impossible situation, but did what he asked.

“Good lass” he murmured, as she returned and knelt down beside him.

Gingerly, she tried to lift up his shirt to examine his wounds, but it was matted to his skin with dried blood. “I don’t want to alarm you Emma, but you’re going to have to take it off me.” Hook said, with just the slightest hint of a smirk.

Emma scowled at him. “Shut up or you can do this yourself” she snapped.

He smiled that infuriating smile of his “That’s the spirit, lass”.

She wiped the smile off his face by yanking hard on the fabric of his shirt, ripping it away from his skin, and he yelped in pain. “Serves you right.” she said, and meant it, but as she began to explore and clean his wounds, her hands were softer than her words.

There were several long gashes, one of which was ran deep into the muscles of his torso, and as she mopped up the dried blood with strips torn from his shirt, fresh blood continued to flow. She didn’t know how much he’d lost, but it seemed like a lot. She reached for the bottle of rum, soaked a strip of his shirt in it, and pressed it firmly against his wounds.

Hook swore loudly, “Damn, love, next time a little warning!”

She remembered the time when it was Hook pouring rum on _her_ wound “Sorry. I forgot you can’t stand a bloody waste of it!”

“Language, Emma” he teased “there are gentlemen present!”

“Where?!” she retorted, continuing to apply pressure to the wounds.

He laughed, not without catching his breath in pain, “May I remind you that you’re on your knees in my cabin, you’ve just removed my shirt, and yours is thoroughly soaked through and clinging to you in a quite delightful way, and I haven’t said anything inappropriate about it at all?”

“Until now!” she muttered darkly.

“Until now” he acquiesced. “That’s what happens if you use bad language in front of a gentleman. It puts ideas in a man’s head.”

“Fuck off.” said Emma, with feeling, but they both laughed.

“Okay, that’s as clean as I can get it”, she said, her voice serious. “What now?”

“You can sew, I take it?”

“No.”

“Really? But you have a child! Haven’t you ever mended a sock or sewn a button on his shirt?” Hook asked, incredulously.

“Honestly? No.” she replied.

Hook shook his head in disbelief, and took an extra long swig of the rum. “Well, you’re about to learn, lass.” he said grimly.

Her hands started shaking.

“Emma, look at me” he commanded, “I can’t do this myself. I may be able to mend a sail one-handed, but not my own skin. You’ve killed a dragon, bested me – more than once, I might add – befriended a giant, fought off Cora, and stood up to Rumplestiltskin and Regina. You can do this. This is _easy_.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced.

“Though maybe you could practice a few stitches on the remains of my shirt first.” he suggested.

Clumsily she threaded a needle and made a few tentative stitches, her hands gradually settling to the task. He watched her closely. “Okay, that’s enough.” He took another, very large, swig of rum. “Are you ready?” She nodded, and slowly she started to stitch him back together.

It must have taken less than fifteen minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Part of her brain rebelled at the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, Emma Swan, orphan turned thief, bondswoman turned Sheriff, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, sewing up holes in Captain Hook, a man that only a few months ago she thought existed only in children’s tales. And here she was in the cabin of his ship, after a vicious battle with an evil witch who’d just killed a werewolf, whom everyone loved.

As she finished the last stitch and tied it off, she began to laugh at the ludicrousness of it all. She threw her head back and howled with laughter, but it stuck in her throat and came out as a sob. Suddenly, all the stress, fear, and pain of the last few hours and weeks came washing over her in a wave of raw emotion. She began to cry in earnest, and when Hook reached out to her, she clung to him like a mast in a storm, grateful for something, anything, to hold onto.

He held her, silently, while she shook with sobs, tears streaming down her face, the salt stinging his wounds painfully, but he didn’t flinch. He offered no platitudes, no empty assurances that things would be alright. He knew better than anyone that they wouldn’t. He’d spent too long around Cora, around dark magic, to have any illusions anymore. Tonight, he’d lost one of his few allies. One of the few women, hell, one of the few people, in his long and sometimes miserable life, that he had done no harm to, and had stood by him in return. And this was only the beginning. Hook, who’d taken more than his fair share of lives, felt suddenly sickened and exhausted by it all.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Red howling her anguish. A part of him wanted to run out into the night and howl with her, to run and run and never stop, but he didn’t move. He held tight to the sobbing Emma, offering what small comfort he could to this woman who was driven as crazy by the urge to protect those she loved, and even those she didn’t, as he had been by the rage and hatred that had filled him after being unable to protect the woman he’d loved, and lost, so many years ago. That this was the same woman who’d abandoned him on top of the beanstalk was of no importance. He hadn’t been entirely honest when he said he wouldn’t have done the same – he would have, if he’d anyone he was as desperate to get back to as she was. He could forgive her that. He wondered if she could forgive his words to her in Rumple’s cell. They pricked as painfully at his conscience as the wounds in his side. Emma was anything but dead and useless. She was the painful, living embodiment of hope and possibility. His head spun. He willed himself to block out the pain in his side, closed his eyes, and hung on tight rocking her gently.

Emma had no idea how long he held her, she was barely even aware of him but for a strong, steadying presence. She cried for all the pain and confusion she’d experienced since arriving in Storybrooke, the loss of Granny, her fears for Henry and her family, she cried for herself and all the sacrifices she’d made, and that might still be asked of her. She even cried for Hook and the vengeance she knew would never satisfy him. And still he held her.

Gradually she cried herself out, and her sobs began to subside. Whoever he was, whoever she was, none of that seemed to matter in the face of the stark reality of what was happening, of the threat Cora posed to them all. Emma Swan, supposedly the Saviour, Captain Hook, the ruthless pirate, two people who not long ago had fought each other bitterly for standing in the way of what the other wanted, bore no relation to the two damaged people holding on to one another now. None of that seemed to matter anymore. She needed someone, and he was here, and that had happened so rarely in her life that it meant more than what had gone before.

As she stilled in his arms, Hook stirred against her. “Emma?” he breathed, brushing her cheek with his lips, “Thank you.” She pulled away just enough to gaze at him uncertainly, and he regretted breaking the silence. She took his breath away, even with her eyes red from crying. He needed her to know he was taking nothing for granted. “For this” he clarified, looking down at his wounds. Her eyes followed his, and she allowed herself to look at him, really look at him, for the first time. She traced her fingers delicately, almost reverently over his wounds, held together by her stitches. He shivered at her touch, and was sure that she was going to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned back against him, as he tightened his embrace.

He was suddenly aware of his heart beating too loudly in his chest, against her ear, and knew she must be able to feel it. And yet, she didn’t move. Slowly he began to stroke her hair, her back, her shoulders, nuzzling at her neck, afraid she was going to break away, but she didn’t. He tried to kiss her but she wasn’t ready for that and turned away, so instead he settled for brushing her neck, her collarbone with his lips. She closed her eyes, afraid to look at him now, but her breath quickened and he felt her mouth against his neck and her hand tangle in his hair.

He pushed himself to the edge of the chair so that he could pull her closer, still on her knees but now between his legs. She felt him straining hard against her, and his hand moved up beneath her shirt and pulled it off. Her pulse raced. He felt her urgency match his, but still she wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t let him kiss her.

Pirate or not, he wanted her consent, too much had passed between them now. “Emma…” it was barely a whisper “do you want this?” She couldn’t answer, but the sound of his voice, low and urgent, undid her, and she let herself look into eyes, guiding his hand to the belt of her jeans and then his pants, helping him to undo them, and that’s all the permission he needed.

He didn’t stop to question what was driving them, whether it was fear, hunger, desire, anger, grief, or a combination of all those things. It was of no consequence. They could untangle that later, if need be. Right now, this was enough. It was as much as either of them could handle.

 

\-----

It was only close to the moment of release, that she finally turned her mouth to his and kissed him hungrily, her eyes fierce and bright, and finally unguarded. He felt like he was drowning, but welcomed the sensation, letting it flood through him, as they rocked together. “Killian” she breathed and he loved the sound of his name on her lips. Their urgent kisses spoke of their hunger, pain, need, and most of all, acceptance, saying things they both knew they couldn’t find words for. She knew he understood the darkness in her past that clouded her present, even knowing that she would always fight against the darkness within him. And he knew she understood that while bitterness and hatred had ruled his heart for a long time, and might still again, he was also capable of love and compassion, and many other things that he had no right to deserve.

So they clung together in silence, letting their kisses say the things they couldn’t. Two broken people, finding answers to questions they’d both been too afraid to ask.

And while they kissed, imperceptibly, Hook’s wounds began to close. Because, although magic works differently in this land, it always recognizes when love is true, no matter how impossible or how fleeting.


	2. The Morning After

**Emma**

When Emma woke in the morning, Killian was still wrapped tightly around her, his mouth against her neck, his hand entwined in hers, fast asleep. A slow deep sound was coming from his throat, almost like a purr. Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake him, she extricated herself from his arms and rose. They could untangle what happened last night later, although curiously, she felt no particular need to. But, she did need to see Henry and Ruby. Killian’s blood was still on her hands and shirt. She washed as best she could, before pulling on her clothes and reluctantly departing, allowing herself one long, lingering glance back at him on the bed.

To her surprise, the diner was open, Leroy and the other dwarves having taken it upon themselves to open the place up, for no real reason other than having something to do. If they noticed her state of dishevelment, they said nothing, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t quite prepared for questions yet. She was relieved to hear that David had ensured Ruby returned safely and was asleep at his and Mary Margaret’s place, so, grabbing a coffee she headed there, knowing M - Snow would have taken Henry there also.

As she pushed open the door to their apartment, Snow’s relief was evident. “Oh, thank the gods, Emma!” she clasped her daughter to her tightly, worry written clearly on her face “I brought Henry home immediately – he’s still sleeping - and when David returned with Ruby, she said you were helping Hook to the hospital. David went down to find you this morning, but said you never checked in… we were so worried. He’s out looking for you. What if Cora returned?” she broke off abruptly, noticing the blood on Emma’s shirt.

“Are you alright? What happened?” she cried.

Emma disentangled herself from her mother and sank onto a bar stool. “I’m fine” she said. “The blood’s not mine, it’s Killian’s, but he’s fine too, or will be. I took him back to his ship. By the time I cleaned him up it was late, and we didn’t know where Cora was, so we agreed it was safer I stayed put.” The half-lie slipped easily off her lips, but she could see from her mother’s expression she wasn’t believing it.

“Emma!” she said sharply, “You spent the night on Hook’s ship?!”

Emma sighed, she really wasn’t ready for this conversation, “Any chance of some breakfast? I’m ravenous”.

Snow glared at her accusingly, but started fixing her some breakfast. “Talk, young lady.” she ordered. Her daughter rolled her eyes at her. “And don’t leave _anything_ out.”

Emma struggled to find words for what had happened with Killian, and found that she couldn’t. So she simply said “What you think might have happened, happened. More or less.”

Her mother’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then, was that amusement? “I knew it!” she said, smirking “I knew there was something between you, by the way he lashed out at you in Rumple’s cell only to let you knock him out so easily at Lake Nostos! And how much you went out of your way to avoid him. ”

Emma couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing “Are you nuts?” she asked. “He’s Captain fucking Hook, and he did not just let me knock him out, and…” not that she really cared about any of that any more, but still. She knew her mother had softened towards Hook, but this was still not the reaction she was expecting.

Her mother just grinned at her. “AND?” she asked.

“And what?” snapped Emma.

“Well, he’s a charming, handsome man, Emma, when he’s not revenging himself on people. I’m just… curious?”

Emma nearly choked on her coffee. The use of her father’s pet name wasn’t lost on her. “Mom!” she spat, genuinely shocked. But she couldn’t hide the furious blush that flooded her cheeks at the remembered pleasure.

Snow looked at her shrewdly, “Good.” she said firmly, “he may not be anyone’s first choice as a son-in-law, but he’s clearly better at looking out for himself, and you, than your previous boyfriends.” By which Emma assumed she was talking about Graham and Neal. “But perhaps it’s best we don’t tell your father about this just yet.”

“No argument here”. She couldn’t even believe she was having this conversation.

On the couch, Ruby stirred. She sniffed at the air, stretching. “Emma, is Hook with you?”

Emma groaned. “No, just me. Is it _that_ obvious?”

“Wolf thing.” said Ruby, by way of explanation “I can smell him on you”. She stiffened, memories of the last night flooding back to her, a strangled sob rising in her throat, and Snow rushed over to her side. Suddenly, Emma didn’t feel much like breakfast after all.

 

**Killian**

When Killian awoke in his bunk, he wasn’t all that surprised to find Emma gone. No, last night was too – he struggled to think of the right word – monumental? to ruin with hasty explanations. It was better this way. Light flooded the cabin, and he realised that it must be mid-morning. Gingerly he tried to stand, and was astonished to find he wasn’t in pain. In fact, where last night there had been three long painful gashes, were three long scars, healed, all but for a dull ache in his core. He shook his head in wonderment. He knew Emma had magic, but didn’t realise she knew how to use it. Perhaps she didn’t, after all, magic was unpredictable here, and if she knew how to heal him magically, she wouldn’t have had to sew him up. And if she hadn’t done that, then the floodgates wouldn’t have opened, and… it was a profoundly depressing thought and he pushed it out of his mind. No, he wouldn’t question the miracles of last night, he’d just accept them and be grateful.

At some point, when they were utterly spent, they’d risen from the chair, and moved to his bed. He was sure he’d finally fallen asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around her, his face buried in her hair. He could still smell her on him, and he drank in the scent of her like a teenager.

He moved around the cabin, testing his swollen ankle, reattaching his hook, cleaning up the blood-stained remains of his shirt, finding the stopper for what was left of the rum, and trying to clean himself up a bit. Later, he’d go and find Emma, but right now it made him happy just to focus on mundane tasks about the ship. However, his good cheer didn’t last long, as he thought back to the events of the previous day, and once again, felt the loss of a true friend. A shadow passed over his handsome features, and for a moment Killian Jones gave way to Captain Hook. But it only lasted a moment, and he firmly pushed the darkness out of his mind.


	3. Gathering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few scenes were leading towards the graveyard scene, which eventually became part of 'Bitter End' instead. I could have left them out now that it stands alone, but hey, you can decide whether to take them or leave them!

That evening, without discussing it, everyone gathered at Granny’s diner. Ruby sat with Snow, David, and Archie, Henry with Marco, August and Emma. Half the town crowded into place, and the dwarves handed around pitchers of lemonade and iced tea. People talked quietly among themselves, sharing their memories of Granny, until Killian limped through the door and up to the bar. A silence fell upon the place. Word of his attempt to defend Granny had spread through the town, but nobody quite knew how to react to Captain Hook stepping out of the shadows and joining them as a community. His eyes found Emma, and she quietly got up and went to stand beside him, slipping her hand into his. They were both aware of everyone’s eyes on them, particularly a stunned David.

Ruby broke the awkward silence, loudly. “That man over there, tried to save Granny’s life. Whatever else he might have done, I trust him and Emma trusts him. We need every man who can to stand up to Cora. If anyone has a problem with him being here, you can leave now.” In the silence that followed, Regina stood up and glared at Hook with loathing. Then she sat down next to Henry in the seat Emma had just vacated. Nobody left the diner.

David took advantage of the silence to stand up and speak about the arrangements for Granny’s funeral. When he called for five men to join him in carrying the coffin, Killian was among those that raised his hand. David tried to ignore him, but a glare from Red changed his mind. “That settles it then. Marco, August, Whale, Leroy, Hoo-Killian and myself.”

Killian nodded his head curtly, his pride stinging a little at the near slight, but grateful for his inclusion nonetheless. He had a feeling that his relationship with Emma’s father was not going to be an easy one. Not that he could blame him. If he had a daughter, Captain Hook would be the last man he’d allow her to have a relationship with. As conversation began to resume around them, he turned to Emma and quietly thanked her. He’d hoped to catch up with her earlier in the day, but she’d been busy, and he hadn’t been at all sure what to expect about showing up in such a public setting. But Emma’s smile set him at ease.

“Sorry I walked out on you this morning”, she offered. “I needed to see Henry.”

“Ah. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about women, it’s never to come between them and their children. Anyway,” he teased, “you snore, and I needed my beauty sleep!”

“I do not!” she said.

He smiled at her, before saying quietly, “No. But you’re too good for me, Emma Swan.”

“Don’t you forget it!” she challenged, smirking.

“You know, some women would find your history off-putting,” she added, echoing his words to her on the beanstalk, “but I love a challenge!” she looked up at him with a grin.

“I’d despair if you didn’t!” he laughed, and pulled her, unprotesting, into a kiss.

Which seemed like the perfect moment for Snow to accidentally spill a pitcher of lemonade all over her husband.

\-----

Over the following weeks, Emma and Killian had few chances to be alone. With Cora still unaccounted for, and Emma and Regina both desperate to keep Henry safe, everyone was on edge.

When Henry wasn’t at school, David was teaching Henry to ride and swordfight, and Snow was teaching him to use a bow. They wanted to ensure he would be safe, whatever happened. Emma taught him how to drive the Bug. It didn’t seem much, compared to the other skills he was learning, and Emma longed for the simpler days of story books and video games, that stayed on the page or screen instead of coming to life around her with the risk of broken bones, or worse. Between her Sheriff’s duties during the day, and Regina insisting on teaching her some rudimentary protective magic after work, her meetings with Killian were brief. It irked her that he was so close, and yet, now that her barriers had come down, everything else kept getting in the way.

Killian was equally frustrated, and took his impatience out on his ship, polishing, patching, repairing, sanding, making never-ending improvements. Emma snuck away most lunchtimes to join him, and found herself aching for the sight of him, stripped to the waist, bent over the ship, working away. She marvelled at the sight of the fresh scars on his side and how their tryst had sealed them. She was astonished by how hard he worked, realizing again, how wrong she’d been about him, assuming that his natural arrogance went hand-in-hand with laziness. She marvelled at how a man 340 years old could be so strong and energetic, and look like… that. She still couldn’t get her head around it. She found herself jealous of the ship, and understood why ships are always referred to as women, despite the misleading name of this one, the _Jolly Roger_.

Their meetings were brief, rushed and intense, and served to scratch an itch, but satisfied neither of them.

Sensing her daughter’s growing irritation, and guessing the cause of it, Snow stepped in, and suggested she and David take Henry a couple of nights a week. Emma was reluctant, as she already spent too little time with Henry, but was grateful for the space and time for them to be together. Time to teach Killian how to use simple things like kettles and toasters and microwaves, which to Emma’s amusement, he still wasn’t convinced weren’t witchcraft. To him, the sparks of electricity looked like magic. He avoided using them whenever possible, but enjoyed helping Emma in the kitchen, proving, as they both suspected, to be a much better cook than she. Tossing ingredients into pots with apparent abandon, but somehow producing delicious meals. All that time he spent in the kitchen as a boy, several hundred years ago, he teased. Watching him show her how to make bread, turned out to be one of the most wonderful evenings she’d ever spent.

But they both knew it was borrowed time.

Everyone knew.

Everyone was preparing. The dwarves continued to dig out the mines, gathering diamonds to grind into fairy dust. Swords were sharpened, bows and crossbows restrung.

Nobody knew exactly what was coming, but everyone knew it was. 


End file.
